


Drop Down, Baby

by birdsinacage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Frottage, Gay Bar, M/M, Sam at Stanford, Stanford Era, Stripper Sam, basically an excuse for me to have sam in thermal underwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 01:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3402614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsinacage/pseuds/birdsinacage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>on his way to visit Sam, Dean hits up a gay bar and gets wrapped up in a long, lean boy with pretty pink lips</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drop Down, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> my first fic on ao3 (I know I'm 2000 and late) bc honestly, I just write fic on twitter and then never actually post it. nevertheless, hope you enjoy stripper!sam, feedback is appreciated  
> title taken from Led Zeppelin's song Custard Pie, it's good and naughty, so go listen

It’s Friday night, and Dean has been driving for close to twenty hours with minimal amounts of sleep. It was a last minute decision - after Dad left him in Montana to deal with a case - to spend the weekend with Sam. He drove for eight hours straight late Thursday night into Friday morning, and slept in the car. Waking up with a sore ass, a stiff neck, and nowhere to buy a coffee were not part of his original intentions; then again, Dean’s never really been one for planning ahead.

***

The first few weeks of Sam being gone were rocky to say the least; he left with all his belongings and no way to keep in touch. Dean was drunk more than not, messing up on hunts and arguing with Dad constantly. After the first month with no contact, Dean was sure Sam had written him off altogether.

Less than a week later, he got a text late at night from an unknown number,

_if you tell dad my # then you BOYB on your first visit_

_that’s no way to treat a guest, Sammy_

_ok dont tell dad my # and I’ll buy u beer_

_now that is more my style, babes ;)_

It got a lot easier after that, being able to text Sam whenever he wanted, granted Dad wasn’t paying attention. Dean had always loved being on the road, but everything was a lot emptier without Sam around.

Within the next month, Dad had bought a truck, and the two of them started taking different jobs. Dad just mumbled something about it making more sense to hit more places at once, and Dean definitely wasn’t going to argue. It felt freeing to ride the highways alone. 

Dad still met up with him for important hunts, but Dad had never been very talkative, so Dean still ended up with a lot of free time. Having Sam’s number made Dean’s free time a little more interesting; they didn’t call each other much, but texting Sam was overly entertaining.

_have any girls complimented your pigtails yet?_ Dean sends, flopping down onto his pillow. Dad insists on taking the bed near the door, which is fine with Dean because the shitty T.V. in the room is closer to his bed anyway. 

Sam is most likely studying and doing homework just like every other hour of the day, so Dean isn’t expecting a text back. Apparently, Sam loves to be teased though, because his phone vibrates on the night-stand a minute later.

_what r u even talking about?_ Dean reads out loud, doing his best impression of Sam’s scrunched up face and whiny voice.

_the pigtails that your boyfriend pulls on in bed_

_really dean? thats the best u can do_

_so, what’s his name?_

_shut up_

_come on, if I’m gonna have an in-law I have to know his name, Sammy_

_shove it, dean_

Dean hears the key in the door and tries to calm down his giggling as Dad comes in and throws some shitty take-out onto the table. He looks about as happy as he ever looks, so Dean goes back to annoying the shit out of Sam.

_I can’t, I don’t play for your team, Sammy_

_right_

_I’m just having fun, Sam. Don’t get pissy_

_yeah well maybe me wearing pigtails for my bf is me having fun_

_haha that’s my boy ;)_

His stomach is growling up a storm now, but Dad’s in the bathroom, so he might as well just wait until Dad comes out to eat. He figures he should probably ask Sam about boring stuff like school or the weather, but pissing him off is a lot more fun.

His phone vibrates against his chest with a picture message of Sam’s middle finger and another text.

_u really are a jerk, u know_

"Dean?"

_and you're a little bitch, Sammy_

"Dean."

Dean looks up, laughing, to find Dad staring at him with his eyebrows raised. 

"yeah?" Dean asks, confused.

"I said, are you gonna get your ass up and eat? because I'm starving. You can talk to your booty call later."

"Dad, I’m not-"

"Just get your ass over here before the food is cold." Dad grunts out, sitting down at the small table near the door. 

Dean figures he can’t leave Sam hanging, so he checks his phone quickly, his face flushing as he reads over the message.

_only if they ask nicely ;)_

Dean coughs and throws his phone onto his bed before sitting down with Dad at the table, a beer and burger already waiting for him on the table.

***

Dean hits up gay clubs every now and then because he can definitely appreciate a firm ass, and maybe he’s a little something other than straight but nobody else needs to know. He’s almost at Palo Alto, but it’s late and he wants a beer and a lap dance so he checks out this club in a smaller town that is surprisingly busy. 

Relaxing with a beer sounds like heaven right now, but he sees this guy dancing and he figures he might as well. He pulls up a chair and puts on his best “relaxed but I know I’m good looking” pout because it’s true and nobody is going to wreck his cool tonight. 

Dean watches this guy for a song, dancing around with his face covered by this elaborate masquerade mask, which Dean finds silly and intriguing at the same time, and he’s wearing these tight - long johns? - They definitely aren't jeans and Dean doesn't really know what else to call them. 

The guy is mostly covered up, but he’s got his shirt off and he’s lean yet muscular; he looks strong and Dean resists looking down - he’s gotta be wearing a cup anyway, right? - so it’s not like Dean could see anything anyway. 

So, he definitely doesn't look down at all, except wow okay this guy has a tight ass. It’s not huge but it’s wrapped up nice in those leggings, and yup, he’s staring. The guy hasn't even been looking at him but he clears his throat and goes to get another beer. 

He contemplates not going back, but he wants so badly to see the face behind that mask, because from what he can see the guy has really pink lips. He starts to worry that maybe the reason the guy has his face covered is because he is actually a  _boy_ …What if he’s way too young to work here and some _Deliverance_  reject is salivating just at the thought of taking him home? 

Well, not on Dean’s watch, nope, not happening. He'll just stay, make sure nobody tries to touch the kid, and maybe tail him just to make sure he gets home okay. He’s not a weirdo, he would never touch a stripper, wouldn't even be the one to pursue it; he knows it’s just their job and doesn’t mean they should be treated any different. 

Freak senses on high alert worrying about man-boy, he sits back down and checks the people beside him, but nobody seems off-the-radar creepy, so he relaxes in his chair. The music changes from some hyper techno shit to some newer soft rock song that Dean can't remember the name of. 

The kid has his back against the pole and he slides down until he’s on his knees - which Dean can appreciate - and then moves to the side of the poll where he lays back, stretching his long torso out. His feet are touching the back of his head and Dean can see every muscle in his body and  _damn_ , _he’s flexible_.

He rolls until he’s just laying on his back with his legs out and Dean’s watching his belly move while he breathes, and wow he just wants to touch and take care of this guy -  _kid_  - whatever he doesn't know anymore, he just feels weird like he  _knows this guy_. 

This guy who now has his feet planted on the floor of the stage where he’s doing a half bridge, his upper torso still on the ground but his legs pushed up, big hands slowly working his leggings down. He’s making a show of wiggling the little tight black shorts he’s got underneath, pulling them down to show his hip bones and the little trail of hair that leads deeper.

Dean is so gone on this right now, he’s having some trouble keeping his cool , but no way is he going to cross his legs so that everyone will know he’s popping a boner; he’ll just breathe through it. The guy is up now, dancing in these tight, tight little shorts - which Dean now notices are just a pair of black boxer briefs - and aren’t strippers supposed to dress up?  _pfft_.

Dean’s not really one to judge though, he can understand being low on money and the kid  _is_  a good dancer, spinning around the pole with just his legs now; strong thigh muscles flexing under a thin sheen of sweat.

Dean has to admit the underwear do make this seem more intimate and the guy does look really good. Dean can spare some money seeing as he hasn’t been drinking much lately - too hyped to see Sammy and driving non-stop - so he tosses a hundred on the stage. The guy puts his hands down on the ground and gives a little naughty upside down smirk in Dean’s direction, until they catch eyes for a second and his smirk fades and he’s pushing himself up and away, where he goes to get a drink of water at the side of the stage. 

Dean’s worried that maybe he looks a little predatory, sitting here like a perv throwing hundred dollar bills at this kid.. he hopes he didn’t scare the kid away, or make him think that he was after something because Dean’s a lot of things but a creep is not one of them. 

The kid comes back and starts some serious hip action on the pole and then he’s got his back to the few people that are still watching, and he’s sliding the pole between his ass with his legs spread out and shit it’s been awhile since Dean hooked up with a guy. He’s so long and lean and Dean has a serious boner - there is no point denying it anymore - and his jeans are tight, so he pushes on his dick with the heel of his hand just wanting to relieve some of the pressure. 

The kid is watching him now, and  _wow_  Dean’s a little pathetic, but the kid is still watching while he grinds his ass hard against the pole and licks his lips…  _shit_. The kid drops down onto his knees and crawls forward until he hops off of the stage…  _fuck_ , he’s coming towards Dean. 

Dean has never been nervous about a lap dance before but he doesn't want this kid to think he owes Dean anything just because of the money and Dean’s brain is short-circuiting because the kid is _tall_. He’s standing in front of Dean and tips his head slightly to the side -  _asking permission?_  - at least that’s what it means when Sammy wants something but doesn't want to ask for it and okay he should  _stop thinking of Sam_  while he’s about to get a  _lap dance_. 

He takes a deep breath because this is why he came here,  _right?_   So he spreads his legs in invitation, and the kid gets all up in his space, his ass tight in Dean’s lap basically sitting on him and  _sure_ , Dean can get on board. It’s a little rough on his dick but it still feels good, and the kid is holding onto his chair, flexing his arms while he moves.

He wonders if it’s bad to want to sleep with a stripper if he was to let them top, because yeah he would be so down for that right now. He knows the  _no hands_ rule, so he just rakes his eyes up the strong back in front of him until they reach a head of soft looking, shaggy brown hair. It looks a little sweaty and Dean wants to card his fingers through it and maybe tug on it a little. 

The kid is turning around, and straddling his legs, body rolling until their chests are rubbing together… Then he’s grabbing Dean’s hands and putting them on his ass and Dean doesn't know what to do, so he leans forward until he can whisper in the kids ear, 

“you don’t owe me anything.”

All that gets him is the kid scooting forward until their crotches are grinding together, so he slides his hands up to the kid’s back and just strokes him there softly. 

Dean can’t focus on anything but the way their hips are moving together, but he should definitely be getting kicked out right now. He looks around and finds that nobody is paying attention, the bar almost empty, and the last guy that was sitting near the stage throws a handful of small bills and then gets his jacket and leaves. 

Obviously the kid is comfortable with him because he has his hands wrapped around Dean’s neck - running his fingers into Dean’s hair - so Dean returns the favour, tugging a little on the kid’s soft hair and earning himself a small moan. 

They’re rubbing faces now, and Dean’s a little scruffy, honestly. He hasn't been sleeping much and he hasn't had anyone to impress, so he’s a little rough around the edges. Dean’s probably going to give the kid whisker rash but he seems to be enjoying himself… so Dean just rubs his face all over and into the kids neck because shit, he smells so good; Dean wants to devour him. 

He smells a little sweaty, but that’s just adding to the appeal, a slight familiarity to his scent that Dean can’t place. Dean wants to kiss him so bad, wonders if that crosses whatever lines are left here, but then whatever music was on gets switched off and an older gruff voice - who Dean now recognizes as the bartender - comes over the speaker,

“come on, kid.. time to clean up, doors are already closed”. 

Dean reaches down and grabs the other loose hundred from his pocket and pushes it against the kids chest, but the kid just reaches down and opens the waistband of his underwear a little and bites his lip. Damn this kid is fucking _unbelievable_ , so Dean slides the money down his chest and tucks it into his underwear where the kid grabs his hand, holding him there. 

He leans forward and whispers softly in Dean’s ear, “keep it”, before standing up and letting his underwear snap away from Dean’s hand, and hit his belly. Then he’s hopping onto the stage and grabbing his money and long johns; rushing backstage before Dean can say a word.

Dean leaves the bar before the bartender gets pissed, and waits outside in the impala for the kid to come out. He’s hustling out the door less than two minutes later carrying a backpack - which just adds to Dean’s earlier suspicion that he’s young - and rushing to a discreet black car across the lot. Dean can’t see his face like he wanted, just notices his worn jeans and lack of an actual jacket to shield him from the chill in the air. 

Dean wants to get out and buy him some shitty take out and brush his hair back, but the kid is already in his car, so Dean tells himself to just let it go. The kid honks his horn once like he knows Dean is watching him, and then speeds out of the parking lot. Dean’s too horny and nowhere near drunk enough to sleep, so he gets back on the road. He can’t wait to see Sammy’s sleepy smile when he makes it to Palo Alto early in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I edit all my own work, so any mistakes are my own, and I'm okay with constructive criticism.. feel free to bug me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/jareddimples) or [tumblr](http://shortstackles.tumblr.com) whenever you want  
> love y'all


End file.
